


Heavy

by bunseok



Series: neo coping mechanism technology [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Sad Dong Si Cheng | WinWin, Sad with a Happy Ending, this was emotionally very difficult to write but the catharsis at the end made it all worth it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 20:20:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20441930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunseok/pseuds/bunseok
Summary: Sicheng wakes up depressed.





	Heavy

Sicheng knew what it was before he even opened his eyes.

That painfully familiar feeling tugging at his head and chest, somehow heavy and empty at the same time. Like he was underwater, held down by chains, unable to move, speak, or feel.

He cracked his eyes open slowly and stared with unfocused lenses up at the ceiling.

Why did he feel like this _ now?_

Last night had been hard. He had stayed up until two in the morning, thinking about everything and nothing, trying to absorb some sort of happiness or entertainment or _ anything _ from his phone -- of course to no avail. At least then, he had had some sort of comfort knowing that things would be back to normal in the morning. That he would wake up feeling like a person again. This feeling never lasted through the night; every time it happened, he had _ always _ been okay the next day.

Today, though, this wasn’t the case.

This horrible weight had seeped into the next morning, and Sicheng had woken up feeling empty.

He turned slowly onto his side and stared blankly at the empty bed next to him. The feeling hadn’t already gone away, and Sicheng no longer had no way of knowing if it ever would. This had never happened before.

The door to the room flew open, and in came Yuta, loud and boisterous. He stood right in front of Sicheng’s face, who just gazed silently through his legs.

“Why haven’t you gotten up yet, Sichengie?” Yuta exclaimed, his voice cutting painfully through Sicheng’s head.

Sicheng didn’t say anything, didn’t move.

Yuta chuckled and tore his blankets off of him. “How late did you stay up?”

Sicheng sat up and hung his legs over the side of the mattress. Every inch of him felt like lead. He sat, slightly hunched over, eyes on the floor.

“Damn, you must really be tired. Come on, we’re running late. Get up so you have time for breakfast.” Yuta jostled his shoulder lightly and ruffled his hair, then walked out.

Sicheng stayed still, thinking about what he had to do that day. Insurmountable dread filled him when he imagined himself getting up and making breakfast, going to practice, and just _ existing _throughout the day that awaited him. He forced himself onto his feet and dragged himself into the bathroom.

It wasn’t until he had his toothbrush raised to his lips that he finally looked up into the mirror. His reflection surprised him -- He didn’t even recognize the sullen, empty eyed man in front of him. He stared at himself for a while, growing heavier by the second, then dropped his unused toothbrush into the sink and walked out.

In the kitchen, none of the food appealed to him. Everything took too much energy to prepare; He didn’t want to put cereal into a bowl, or a piece of bread into a toaster, or even just juice into a cup. Instead, he just sat at the counter, staring silently at the dishes by the sink that the other members had left there.

“Have you eaten, Sicheng-ssi?” Sicheng heard Doyoung ask behind him. He nodded.

“Okay,” Doyoung continued, coming up to stand next to him, “We’re leaving now. Are you dressed?”

Another nod.

Sicheng followed the rest of 127 out to the cars that brought them to and from practice. He climbed into whatever car was closest, and Yuta made sure to join him.

During the ride, Yuta tried to strike up some sort of conversation, but it quickly petered out into a silence that lasted the rest of the trip. Sicheng felt a twinge of guilt at brushing off his hyung like this, but he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to do anything about it.

Entering the practice room, Sicheng felt heavier than he ever had before. Every single motion of his body felt like dragging a thousand-pound weight across the floor -- How could he be expected to dance for the next eight hours straight?

Once practice started, though, Sicheng had the first prickle of relief he had felt all day. The steady, rehearsed motion of his limbs throughout the dance routine felt like breaking through a block of ice deep in his chest. It was like he was finally starting to swim up towards the surface -- Not yet _ okay_, but more human than he had felt since this had all started.

But then came break time.

The music stopped, and he was pulled painfully quick back into reality. He sighed heavily, feeling the weight seep back into his brain, and dragged himself into the farthest corner of the room. He slid his back down the wall until he was sitting, legs curled up into his chest, and rested his chin on his knees. He stared down at the floor in front of him, letting the sounds of his bandmates around him fade into an amalgamation of meaningless noise.

He didn’t notice someone coming towards him until they were sitting on the floor next to him. He didn’t turn to look at whoever it was, didn’t even acknowledge them.

“Hey.”

Jaehyun’s voice.

“You okay?”

Sicheng nodded.

“What’s wrong?”

Sicheng shrugged. “Just really tired.” The first words he had spoken all day.

“Anything on your mind?”

He shook his head. This was true; There _ was _nothing on his mind. His head was completely blank, filled with nothing but heaviness and exhaustion.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

Another shake of his head. Jaehyun was quiet for a moment.

“You know you can talk to me, right, Sicheng? Or to anyone else here?”

Jaehyun sounded sad, concerned, and Sicheng felt another small pang of guilt.

“I’m just tired today,” He mumbled into his arm. “I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

Jaehyun murmured a soft “okay,” and rubbed Sicheng’s back gently before getting up and walking away. Sicheng felt a little worse at having been left alone again, and he buried his face into his arm.

Break time ended, and Sicheng pulled himself off the floor and over to his place in front of the mirror. He avoided looking himself in the eyes, as well as the gazes of the other members, and just focused on the reflection of his body as he moved.

Sure enough, that tiny sliver of relief came as he practiced the motions his body knew so well. He was growing tired, but it was the good kind of tired, the physical kind, the kind that he knew was valid and real.

Lunch came far too soon. Sicheng knew that as soon as the music stopped, he’d be swallowed back up by that horrible weight. Once their last run-through was finished, he slumped his shoulders and felt the relief fade away, just as he knew it would. His heart was so heavy. _ Why was this happening to him? _

Sandwiches and juice were brought in and handed to each member, and they all sat on the floor together to eat and talk. Sicheng sat closest to Johnny, whom he trusted to not bother or question him too much.

Sicheng stared down at the sandwich in his hands. He hadn’t eaten all day, yet he still wasn’t hungry. He knew he loved his kind of sandwich -- he could _ remember _ loving this kind of sandwich -- but looking at it now, it seemed wholly unappealing. He exhaled slowly, slumping his shoulders. He was just so empty, so tired, so _ broken_. He was starting to think he would never feel like himself again.

“Chengie?”

He recognized Taeil’s voice next to him.

“Chengie, are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

He felt Taeil’s hand on his shoulder.

“Is something wrong?”

“I’m just tired.” Sicheng was getting sick of saying those words.

“Can you talk to me about it?” Taeil’s hand was rubbing gentle circles on Sicheng’s shoulder.

“I said I was just tired.”

Sicheng instantly regretted the irritable bite in his voice.

Taeil’s hand stilled. “Can you come with me outside of the practice room?” He said softly.

Sicheng shook his head. “Sorry hyung.”

Taeil was starting to stand up, nudging Sicheng to follow him. “Come on, Chengie, let’s go.”

Sicheng swatted his hand away. “I fucking said I was just tired, okay?”

Oh god.

He could feel everyone around him grow still. He kept his head down, guilt and unbearable heaviness pushing him down further and further into the ground.

“Sicheng.” Taeil’s voice was firm.

Sicheng wanted to sob, but he didn’t have enough energy to come anywhere close to shedding a single tear.

* * *

Sicheng had been dismissed early. He was back at the dorms long before the rest of 127, wasting away in his room all by himself. He wanted to play some music, or maybe watch a movie, or read a book, or do literally _ anything_, but here he was, motionless on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He thought about plugging his phone in to charge -- It was probably somewhere around ten percent battery at this point, but he couldn’t even bring himself to do that. His arms and legs were made of lead, and his head was made of brick.

He sighed, feeling his chest rise and fall.

Was this ever going to end? What if he woke up tomorrow, and this feeling still hadn’t gone away? Sicheng was struggling to remember what it was like to be okay. He felt like he was trudging through a cramped, dark tunnel, with no light at the end.

He didn’t even have enough energy to close his eyes.

He had no idea how much time had passed before the bedroom door slowly creaked open. He didn’t say anything, just waited for whoever was there to announce themselves, or demand some sort of explanation, or tell him how worried they were, or something like that.

This didn’t happen; The mystery visitor just stood there quietly for a while, and Sicheng hesitantly opened his mouth.

“What?” His voice was flat.

A gentle response: “Are you feeling like yourself?”

Taeyong.

This wasn’t a question that Sicheng had expected. “Huh?”

His mattress dipped as Taeyong took a seat by his legs.

“Is something going on with you, Sicheng?” Taeyong’s voice was so gentle.

“I don’t know.” Sicheng barely recognized his own voice.

“Are you sad about something?”

“No.”

“Angry?”

“No.”

“Can you tell me why you’re acting like this?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t…” Sicheng exhaled. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Is there something wrong with you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Sicheng…” Taeyong put a hand on Sicheng’s leg. “Can you sit up and look at me?”

Sicheng was still for a moment, trying to determine if he had the energy to move that much. Taeyong was waiting for him, though, so he forced himself up anyways. He felt the heaviness settle onto his shoulders as he stared down at his hands. He could feel Taeyong watching him closely.

“I’ll be fine tomorrow,” Sicheng mumbled.

“But I want to know what’s happening _ today_, Sicheng.”

“I just…” Sicheng sighed heavily. _ I guess I’m talking about this, then_. “I just get like this sometimes. I don’t know.”

“This has happened before?”

Sicheng nodded silently.

“But none of us have ever seen you act like this.”

“That’s because it usually only happens at night. Or I can hide it until it goes away.” Sicheng wanted this conversation to be over. Every inch of him was practically screaming at him to stop talking. “I don’t know what happened today. I don’t know why it’s so much worse.”

“What, exactly, is _ it?_ What’s going on?”

Sicheng didn’t want to imagine the way Taeyong must be looking at him right now.

“Just… _ Heavy_. I feel so heavy.”

Taeyong was quiet.

“Like everything is weighing me down. I can’t bring myself to do anything. I’m so tired, but it’s not like my body is tired. Like my brain is tired.”

Sicheng rubbed his thumb slowly.

“And empty, too. I’m so empty.”

He exhaled thinly through his nostrils.

“Empty?” Taeyong breathed.

“...Yeah. Like nothing in my head is working. I don’t… I don’t care about anything. I’m just tired. The only thing I feel is _ tired_.”

He heard Taeyong swallow anxiously.

“Do you feel like this often, Sicheng?”

Sicheng shook his head. “Not often. Just, sometimes. And I’m usually so good at hiding it.”

“Why do you feel like you need to hide it?” Taeyong sounded pained.

Sicheng paused. That was an interesting point. Why _ did _ he feel like he needed to hide it?

“I don’t… I don’t know. I guess I just don’t want you guys to worry. And it always goes away, so it’s not a big deal.”

“Sicheng…” Taeyong said, and Sicheng knew what was coming next. He was so tired of this conversation.

“We all care about you so much.”

Sicheng wanted to tell him to stop.

“You know we all just want you to be happy.”

Sicheng wanted to yell at him, to tell him to leave him alone.

“Of course this is a big deal, Sicheng.”

Sicheng clenched his jaw. “I don’t care.”

“What?”

Sicheng fell silent, gritting his teeth. He knew he would regret it if he lashed out at Taeyong, so he kept his mouth shut.

“You don’t care? What do you mean?”

Sicheng took a deep breath. “Look.” He checked himself, keeping his tone as light as he could. “I’ll be fine tomorrow, okay? Thank you for your concern. But it really doesn’t matter. This will go away, and I’ll be fine, and we can all forget about it. Just…” He clenched his fists. “Just don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Sicheng, this isn't like you.”

“Leave me alone.”

Sicheng looked up at Taeyong for the first time, and froze when he saw his face. Taeyong looked so worried, so_ profoundly _ sad, and Sicheng felt that twinge of guilt return.

“I’m sorry,” Sicheng said. He meant it.

Taeyong glanced down for a moment, thinking, then looked back up into Sicheng’s eyes. “Do you think you’re depressed?” He asked. “Is that what this is?”

“Depressed?” Sicheng stared at him with confusion. “I don’t… Depression isn’t like this.”

Taeyong tilted his head slightly. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Depression is like… Crying, right? And wanting to die all the time? I’m not like that. I don’t cry when I feel like this. And I just want to disappear, not die.”

“What?” Taeyong’s surprise took Sicheng off guard. “What do you mean, you want to disappear?”

Sicheng sighed. “It’s fine.” He felt kind of annoyed that he had let that slip out, and that Taeyong was latching onto it like this. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Sicheng.” Taeyong put a hand on Sicheng’s knee and looked him in the eye. “I care about you so, so much.”

Sicheng met his gaze.

“I just want you to be okay,” Taeyong continued. “I don’t want you to feel like this anymore. From what you’ve told me, and the way you’re acting, I really think you might be depressed. As your friend and brother, I’m telling you I want you to talk to a professional.”

Sicheng wanted to argue, wanted so badly to insist that he was fine and that he didn’t need any help. But then he looked at the way that Taeyong was looking at him. That sweet, loving gaze, filled with so much concern and sadness. Taeyong, who was always looking out for his members, who always so sincerely wanted nothing but happiness and comfort for the people around him.

Sicheng exhaled all the air out of his lungs and slowly, slowly leaned forward and buried his head in Taeyong’s chest. Taeyong didn’t say anything, just ran his fingers through Sicheng’s hair.

“I’m so tired,” Sicheng said, voice slightly muffled. “I’m so tired, hyung.”

“I know,” Taeyong said softly. “It’s okay.”

“I just want it to stop.” Sicheng could feel the pressure building up behind his eyes, but he still couldn’t cry. It was like everything was just piling up deep inside him, but he was too heavy to let any of it out. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

“I know, I know,” Taeyong murmured. “It’s going to be okay.” His hand ran comfortingly over Sicheng’s back. “I’m here.”

Sicheng breathed deeply through his nose, inhaling Taeyong’s scent. His eyes closed. “I’m so tired.”

They stayed like that for a while, Taeyong murmuring constant reassurance to the boy in his arms, until Sicheng eventually pulled away and laid back down on the mattress.

“Am I going to be okay?” Sicheng asked.

“Yes.”

Taeyong said this with so much conviction that Sicheng simply had no choice but to believe him.

“...Lay with me, hyung?”

Taeyong laid down next to him, putting an arm over his torso and nuzzling his face into Sicheng’s chest. “How are you feeling now?” He asked.

Sicheng stared up at the ceiling. “Like I’m going to be okay.”

The emptiness in his chest was still there. But, with Taeyong clinging to him, his warmth seeping into Sicheng’s skin, he felt like maybe the emptiness was being filled, just a little.

He felt like maybe he was going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> pls give me feedback, thank you for reading <3


End file.
